


Further Apart

by LavernaG



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst, Family, Gossip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavernaG/pseuds/LavernaG
Summary: Rachel Lynde informs Marilla of a rather nasty piece of gossip that brings tension into the Cuthberts' household. Based on Anne with an E. Pre-Book./Pre-Series. One-Shot.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Further Apart

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place long before Anne came to Green Gables, so the Cuthberts are quite young, say in their thirties. Fascinated as I am by their complicated but ever so true love for each other, I couldn't help investigating their isolation a bit.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please leave me a comment if you do! :)

Marilla closed the front door of Rachel Lynde's house absently, her mind a million miles away. She didn't pay any mind to her friend's words that escorted her out of the house, "Well, I'm just telling you what I've heard!" In fact, she didn't even notice nor hear them properly. She was too preoccupied.

Throughout her journey back to Green Gables, Marilla Cuthbert kept tripping over things, were they tree stumps or stones or even her own long, brown and ever so simple skirt. She just couldn't figure out how people could think such a thing. And about the Cuthberts to boot! The plain, quiet Cuthberts, who had never spoken an ill word against anyone, nor had they really said any word about anyone, to be precise. They were just minding their own little and, to the general public, unimportant business on their farm on the outskirts of Avonlea. Why, of all people, would they choose them to pick on?

Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert were different from other Avonlea people, that was for sure and certain. They didn't associate with much anyone, except perhaps the Lyndes and the shop assistants in town. They didn't interest themselves in other people's lives, as was so incredibly common and self-evident around here, and they hardly ever went to town gatherings. All in all, they pretty much kept to themselves all the time. Only through Rachel Lynde did they find out about anything happening on Prince Edward island.

Marilla would have thought people would think they were self-centred or perhaps disdainful, but never anything like this. Oh, Marilla could be sharp with people and Matthew could be evasive, but those were all minor things. None of these justified saying things like this about them. People could be so cruel, so unjust.

Walking the footpath up to the house, Marilla tried to think of an action that might have made them come to that hideous conclusion. Perhaps it had been something she had done or something she had said. For Heaven's sake, Marilla never spoke of these things! Not that she had much to say anyway. It seemed almost unbelievable that anyone could think of her that way. But no one has the Avonlea people beat for making up ugly stories.

* * *

Matthew tried to close the kitchen door as quietly as he could at the risk of upsetting his sister. Marilla didn't even flinch. She was sitting at the dining table, her chin propped up in her hands, as she stared very intently straight ahead. Matthew found himself worrying if perhaps her glare would set the wall on fire.

Tea was laid on the table, but Matthew had a strong feeling it had already gone cold. Marilla didn't blink when Matthew came towards her and sat down at the end of the table. There was an unsettling silence in the room. While they were accustomed to not talking much, this change in the atmosphere was new and unwelcome. Matthew prepared himself to utter a word for a full minute. It was so difficult to suddenly decide and break the silence. He could do it no easier than he could break a vase out of his own free will.

"Well now," he finally mustered up the courage to say, "what's the matter, Marilla?" He had never been afraid of his sister exactly, it was just that he knew perfectly well how much she was doing for them both, how much she had done in the past, how much she worried, and how tiring all that could be. He didn't ever want to upset her if he could help it.

Marilla's eyes suddenly came alive and her head snapped up, bringing her out of her chilling reverie. She looked over to Matthew, and then turned quickly to pour him some tea, as if she had been about to do so right from the moment he had walked in. "Rachel," she said rather coolly, "told me what some of the families in Avonlea are saying about us." She set down the teapot with a loud clatter. "It was not pretty."

Matthew hadn't known Marilla had been to the Lyndes. He'd have wanted to ask Thomas's advice in a small matter concerning the livestock. This, however, sounded much more intriguing. "Well, what was it?" he asked, mindful of Marilla's disturbed mood.

Marilla raised her teacup to her thin lips. "You don't want to know."

Matthew watched her gradually empty the cup and then hold it in her hands, staring into it distractedly. She was not being her usual self, and if there was anything in this world that worried Matthew, it was when his never-changing down-to-earth sister started acting strange. "Well now," he prodded delicately, "if it's important and if it upsets you, I do want to know."

He gave his sister a fairly determined look, at least in his humble opinion, and was relieved when Marilla didn't look up at him just yet. Matthew had enough time to change his expression into a mildly obedient one before she did.

He could see it in her eyes and in the stiff way she moved to face him—and then to turn away again—that Marilla was torn between telling her brother and sparing him this nasty piece of gossip. For a moment Matthew even started to doubt himself if he wanted to know. It was certainly easier to live in complete obliviousness and not worry himself over anyone else. However, he felt it was his duty to worry about his sister. If not because she needed his support, then because she simply didn't have anyone else to consider her feelings but him.

Marilla returned the cup to the table with a sound quite too loud and harsh for the occasion. Matthew noticed with a growing sense of concern that her hands were not exactly firm nor still as they always were. One could even say she had started shaking a little. Matthew leaned further towards his decision to drop the topic, and tried to, very unheedingly, reach for one of Marilla's ever so scrumptious pastries.

Unfortunately, on the way he was destined to brush against his sister's smaller, trembling hand, at which the woman pulled both her hands and herself farther away from the table and her brother. Matthew's hand reached its destination, while his eyes searched his sister's bravely. Although he was taken aback a little by her sudden and unexpected move, he was still too curious to leave the matter be.

Even though he'd spent the better part of his life in silence, Matthew had somehow missed his life lessons in reading his sister's every expression. If she was irritated or deeply concentrated, he could see it, of course. But once there was something more unusual, like fear or embarrassment, in her features, Matthew was at a loss.

And so he watched in anxious unawareness as his sister's thin lips parted and closed again a couple of times, her expression one of restrained agitation. Marilla was avoiding her brother's eyes, and Matthew couldn't say he minded much. He wasn't sure if he could keep on pretending he wasn't the least bit intimidated by her if she'd looked him dead in the eyes.

"Well now," he could hear his own voice saying after he'd taken an encouraging sip of tea, "if it's that bad, I'd rather hear it from you. You know, rather than someone else."

He didn't think he'd ever seen his sister so indecisive and anxious before. It was definitely not like her to hide her eyes, and she was never at a loss for words. He couldn't fathom what manner of hearsay could have had her so upset. Marilla let out a small forlorn sigh, her hands twisting her napkin on her lap, and shook her head.

Matthew could see plainly that he was not the only one feeling extremely uncomfortable, so after a long suspenseful pause he came to the abrupt decision to change the subject. He was not a nosy man by nature and he didn't exactly enjoy prying. He figured if Marilla felt so strongly about not telling him, it would probably be best to leave the matter be in case it really was something he didn't want to know about, as his sister had insisted. "Well now," he started again slowly, attempting a lighter tone, "I thought I'd ask Thomas if-"

"They think we live in incest!"

Marilla clenched her teeth and pursed her lips, irritated and at the same time ashamed of her sudden outburst. Her voice had been harsh, almost accusing—as if either of them had done anything to encourage the townsfolk's wagging tongues! She glared at her brother for a long moment, unable to comprehend what exactly she was so angry about. Matthew was staring back at her, completely dumbfounded. The dear man was too kind-hearted and unflappable to be capable of feeling enraged—like she was. All of a sudden she was feeling angry at everyone: at the people of Avonlea for bad-mouthing them; at Rachel Lynde for telling her about it; at Matthew for being unable to show any emotion but sheer shock; and finally at herself for taking the matter to heart.

Staring into her brother's eyes, she felt her anger melting away and turning into shame. Her eyes stung from not blinking and from her holding back a miserable and completely uncalled-for sob that was persistently climbing up her throat. She turned her head away sharply. She was feeling all too emotional about the whole thing, and it annoyed her. Placing her napkin on the table, she stood, and made sure not to brush against Matthew as she made her way around his chair and into the kitchen.

The word itself and all that it implied was absurd. How anyone could make up such an ugly story about the two of them was beyond her. Marilla sought out a towel to protect her hand before opening the oven she remembered leaving a fresh batch of cookies in. She had never been involved with any man in that way—just thinking about it sent an unpleasant eerie chill down her spine. Inadvertently she let her mind wander a little and it conjured up a twisted image of Matthew, standing exceptionally close to her and holding her against him by the waist; in his eyes was an unnatural gleam.

Marilla hissed in pain and dropped the griddle on the stove with a loud clatter. She brought up her burned left hand and held it close to her chest, holding her breath. Matthew must have heard her, but she wished he wouldn't come to investigate. She felt she couldn't possibly look at him. Not now. She chided herself in her head for thinking about her brother that way for even a moment.

Sighing, she sat down on the bench at the kitchen table. She really shouldn't have minded what people said that much. Heaven knows Marilla had never taken any gossip to heart before. This time, however, she did. She felt insulted, disgusted and mortified. How could she show her face in Avonlea now, knowing what was thought of her and her brother? Cradling her hurting hand, Marilla wiped furiously at the stubborn tears that had started to roll down her cheeks. She'd known for a few years now that she would quite probably remain a spinster for the rest of her life, and despite herself, the fact depressed her now more than ever before.

She couldn't hear a sound from the dining room. It was just as well, since she didn't fancy the idea of anyone seeing her in her current state, least of all Matthew. He would process this matter on his own, and they would never touch the subject again.

As was common with scandalous stories like these, the people of Avonlea would soon forget about their indecent assumptions about the Cuthberts and go on to pester some other unsuspecting townsfolk. But the Cuthberts weren't that quick to forget. They didn't notice it themselves, but from that day forward something changed between them.

They would see each other less during the day; Marilla would busy herself even more than before with keeping the house and Matthew would disappear into the barn or onto the field for longer periods of time. When they met for meals, fewer words would be exchanged; clipped one-word answers would become more frequent. Each sibling would make sure to make as little physical contact with the other as possible; they stopped holding hands. In the evenings they would sit in opposite chairs by the fireplace and make less conversation than before; shared laughs became rarer. And little by little as time passed them by, the Cuthberts drifted ever further apart.

_The End_


End file.
